


You Never Know

by erisgregory



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-26 11:44:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erisgregory/pseuds/erisgregory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt goes to London to hear the reading of his great aunt's will.  London is full of surprises for him, things Kurt never expected.  But the biggest surprise just might be running into Sebastian Smythe again after all these years.  Or the fact that his daughter was clinging to him at the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Kurt, we need to talk, son.” His dad's voice was low and serious on the phone.

“What is it? Is everyone alright? Are you okay?” Kurt felt the panic welling up in him. His dad had been cancer free for two years now but that wasn't a guarantee it would never come back.

“I’m fine, we’re all fine over here, it's none of us. It’s your Aunt Agnes.”

In many ways the call came at both the best and the worst possible time for Kurt. After four years with Vogue, he’d just been offered the position of junior editor. He didn’t start until next Monday, which meant he was able to take off three days. That gave him five in total, as this was Tuesday. Despite ambitions to someday travel the world and see every fashion capitol, Kurt had never been overseas and a trip like this meant a good deal more planning than he had time for.

Aunt Agnes, his great aunt technically, was something of a mystery to Kurt. She’d moved to London before Kurt’s birth, and had never been one for staying in touch. They got a Christmas card every year, but it was generic and devoid of any personal sentiment. So while Kurt felt saddened by the idea that his Aunt Agnes had died alone in some far off nursing home, he didn’t really feel any personal loss. He wondered if maybe it would set in when he got to England.

He had to go because he was listed in Agnes's will. This had come as a surprise to him and his father, but with no children of her own, Kurt and his dad were her only living relatives. His father speculated a little on what sort of legacy she might leave behind, but in all honesty he couldn't be sure. She was very private and had kept her distance since he was a young man. Either way, Kurt had to fly out for the reading of the will, whether she was leaving behind property or money or a cat.

Kurt was hoping it wasn't a cat, but he wasn't the sort of person who could be excited about getting money as an inheritance either. Maybe he should have been. It's not as if he didn't have school loans to pay off or that he made so much money working as a junior editor. Most of that income got sunk into his pricey New York apartment, and well to be very honest, his wardrobe. The point was, he could use money right about now. He just didn't care to get it like this. It made him a little bit uncomfortable.

Being raised by a blue collar working man could do that to a person. Kurt's father, Burt, was a mechanic by trade. He'd raised Kurt alone after his mother passed away when he was only six. Burt was a wonderful dad, in every way. He was rough around the edges, sure, but he loved with his whole heart and he taught Kurt everything he could about how to be the best version of himself. Part of that was standing on your own feet when you could, and that was something that was very important to Kurt. He loved his independence and only two weeks after he graduated from high school, Kurt moved to New York to make his dreams come true.

Sometimes it was tougher to keep standing on his own merit, but Kurt thrived in New York and stopped taking handouts from his dad as soon as humanly possible. Which left him feeling very accomplished, but it also made this entire inheritance track feel just a little bit sketchy. It was what it was, though, he told himself, so that meant sucking it up and going to London.

Getting a last minute ticket to London wasn’t the easiest thing he’d ever done, but Kurt had his flight booked by that evening. His boss had given him the time off and his best friend came with a bottle of wine to help him pack.

"You're going to be sorry you're taking so much," Santana told him. She was leaning against the door frame of his closet watching as he struggled with the age old debate; scarves or ties. 

"I'm her only relative; I can't show up looking like a poor country kid from the U.S." Kurt gathered his scarves and ties and headed past Santana back to the bed where his various outfits were laid out.

"What poor country relative wears Prada? Kurt, seriously, listen to Auntie Tana who loves you." Santana set her glass down on the side table and perched gracefully on the corner of his bed. 

"Alright," Kurt replied, grudgingly.

"Pack one suit for the funeral, make it something simple and take a couple of different shirts so you can use it when you meet the solicitors. Pack this in your hanging bag with your dress shoes, toiletries, and underwear, and carry that bag on. It's the most important and you have to be sure it arrives in London with you. Then you get one other suitcase. That's it, baby. All this other stuff is going to be a pain to haul around a strange city by yourself. You'll be easy pickings for the criminal set and without me there to look out for you I can't say what might happen"

Kurt didn't answer right away. He was holding his cashmere sweater, one of his most prized fashion acquisitions and he didn't want to put it down. Even if he knew Santana was right.

Santana was the practical one in their friendship. She was logical and clear headed when he was falling apart, and she kept him grounded no matter what. His favorite thing about her might be that she never let him get away with anything. Her bullshit detector never failed to sniff him out, and she told it like it was. In fact she was the perfect ying to his yang, or yang to his ying, whichever way the wind seemed to be blowing any particular day.

"You're right," he said finally.

"Of course I am," she answered with a satisfied kick of her foot.

"You don't have to sound so happy about it, though." Santana just laughed at that, and soon Kurt was laughing too. It was a nice break from the work of putting together his wardrobe for the trip. He liked to have days to do something like this, but there was no hope for it. It simply had to be done tonight.

It did get done. It took a lot of frustration and debate, but in the end he had his carry on packed as Santana suggested, and he had his suitcase filled with pieces that were versatile and could mix and match. Afterwards they sat together on his sofa, finishing the wine and listening to the rain beat against the large windows in his living room.

When she left, somewhere around two in the morning, Kurt climbed into bed and tried not to be too excited about his trip. It seemed wrong somehow to attach excitement to something so solemn. Eventually the wine and exhaustion lulled him to sleep, though Kurt was restless the entire night.

The flight was sort of exactly what Kurt expected it to be. It was crazy long, incredibly dull, and left him feeling strung out and exhausted. He'd not been able to sleep on the flight because he was too busy worrying about what waited for him in London, and now that he was there and checking into a hotel Kurt had to resist the urge to fall directly into bed. It was nearly time to though, at nine thirty in the evening. He just wanted to wait so that he'd sleep the entire night though and not have to wake up in the middle of the night. The next afternoon was the reading of the will and Kurt wanted to be well rested for it.

A shower was in order first, anyway. He unpacked and stepped into the generic but brightly lit and thankfully clean bathroom. There was a pile of fluffy white towels waiting on the vanity for him. Kurt set the water to almost scalding as he tried to burn away the stale feeling that lingered from the flight. He leaned back against the tiles and just let the water flow over him, over his cramped muscles, over his aching head, and eventually he felt a little less like a crazed traveler with no sure plan and more like himself. Kurt Hummel, about to face something a little uncertain but not something at all impossible. 

He sent his dad an email before climbing into bed with a room service fruit salad and a bottle of water, and before much longer everything was set aside and Kurt was asleep. He'd not even remembered to turn off the light.

The next day, Kurt was up before his alarm so he got ready and went downstairs to the hotel restaurant for breakfast. It felt strange to be sitting there at the little table sipping his coffee and crunching on his toast because it felt so completely normal. Part of him expected it to feel different somehow, here in another country. He smiled at that crazy thought and finished his breakfast, feeling a good deal more rested today and ready to face the solicitors when the time came. For now he had just enough time to do something touristy and Kurt had chosen the National Gallery.

It was a grand building, really. Kurt could have enjoyed passing the time just sitting across from it, enjoying the view, but he knew what waited inside and he wanted the chance to soak up the history and the art while he had time. Who knew when he'd be back?

Sadly, as it turned out, Kurt couldn't make it all the way through the way he'd hoped to. There was just too much to see, and he couldn't walk past the paintings without reading about them and admiring them, some for only a few minutes, but a couple held him captivated for much longer. Madame de Pompadour at her Tambour Frame was one of them, but the second one really took Kurt by surprise. It was Van Gogh's Sunflowers. He'd seen pictures of it online and in books but he'd never understood what the big deal was really until he was standing there gazing at it and soaking up the warmth that seemed alive, captured in something so simple. 

Eventually he'd had to leave and go back to the hotel room to get ready for the reading of the will. He was in his nicest suit, grey slim scarf taking the place of a tie, and his Prada shoes which were one of his favorite things he owned. He looked respectable and that was what was important to him right now as a representative of his family. Kurt slipped his wallet into the inside pocket of his jacket, along with a handkerchief, just in case, and then he had the hotel call him a cab.

As this was his second time out on the roads, Kurt was starting to get used to the feel of the city. Well, the feel of riding in a car as it drove on the wrong side of the road. The cab was tiny, the streets were becoming a little crowded at this hour, but all of it had a similar energy to the city he loved back home. It wasn't exactly the same, here everything felt older. If he were a poet, and he really was not, he might even say, more mature. He'd not say that out loud though, he loved New York, but there was a charm here that he just couldn't put his finger on. It was lovely, whatever it was.

The solicitor's office wasn't far from his hotel so the ride there was only ten minutes in the traffic. Kurt paid his cabbie, still a little uncertain with his money, but the man was kind about it and wished Kurt good luck as he stepped out onto the curb.

Inside the offices things were pretty much as Kurt had imagined which wasn't nearly as comforting as it sounded. It was darker in here and the dark woods and brown leathers made everything feel intimidating. He was confident enough though to keep his shoulders back and his head up, and soon he was seated in a low chair in a much more modern looking office with the solicitor handling his aunt's estate.

"Mr. Hummel, thank you for coming in person. I'd like to extend my condolences over the loss of your aunt." the older man was gentle and polite which helped put Kurt at ease. He was Mitchell Cunningham, and right away Kurt liked him. He had with him an assistant who was recording the proceedings and another lady that was introduced as a representative from King's College Hospital. Apparently some of what his aunt had left was going to them.

After the introductions were complete Mr. Cunningham got right to business, reading over the will. Kurt listened carefully, though he was more and more surprised the more he listened. Not only had she left her house to Kurt, but also a little more than half of her remaining assets. A fairly tidy sum was dedicated to research at the hospital but everything else was Kurt's. The solicitor gave him some time to let it all sink in, and then he was signing papers and trying to listen as they explained what the procedure was from this point on and how they could put him in touch with the right people to sell the house which had already been appraised in preparation for his arrival. His aunt hadn't expected him to keep the house and Kurt was grateful for that. He had a life back home waiting for him and the less time he had to keep it waiting, the better. 

Even so, Kurt wasn't immune to what had just happened. Aunt Agnes had left Kurt what seemed like a ridiculous amount. It was going to take planning and wisdom and it all felt just a little bit outside Kurt's abilities just now. It wasn't until later that evening, back in his hotel room, that he was able to look over the papers again and this time feel a little less like he was dreaming and a little more like he knew what he needed to do. He called his dad.

"Bud, you gotta decide how you want to handle this on your own." Of course that's what he'd expected but he needed that connection to help him keep his feet on the ground right now.

"I know, I think I just needed a sounding board," Kurt explained. He was curled up in the chair by the window looking down at the street as the little cars zipped past.

"You're a smart kid, you always have been; maybe even too smart sometimes. You'll figure this out and any time you need a sounding board, I'll be right here."

"But what would you do?" Kurt pressed. he couldn't help it. He felt inadequate to the task.

"With nearly thirty two million dollars?" Burt laughed gently and Kurt ached to hear it. He wished he could hug his dad and he was stricken with a sudden homesickness. " I'd go to bed early and worry about it in the morning kiddo. You've got a few days to get everything in order right?"

"Yeah," Kurt answered meekly.

"Okay, then go to bed. It'll all still be there in the morning. For what it's worth, I'm really happy for you, Kurt. I know you're worried about how to handle all of this the right way, but I know you'll do great. You always have." Kurt could hear the affection in his father's voice and it gave him some much needed strength. Maybe he could do this.

"Thanks, Dad." Kurt hugged his knees in lei of his dad. Not quite the same but still he felt better having talked.

"I love you," Burt told him quietly.

"I love you too," Kurt answered.

After saying his goodbye and promising to stay in touch at a more reasonable hour, he changed into his pajamas and ate his dinner in bed before turning in early. Kurt was exhausted, mentally and physically, and he knew his dad was right. It would all still be there in the morning. Tomorrow is another day, after all. Just as he was drifting off, Kurt smiled into the dark, silently thanking the aunt he'd never really known.

The next day, Kurt met with the realtor and the solicitor at the house. Mansfield House, the little plaque on the wall by the outer gate read. Even knowing the sale price ahead of time didn't prepare Kurt for what he saw as they pulled into the drive. It looked like a miniature mansion, though technically it only had six bedrooms. It was gorgeous. Like something right out of a fairy tale.

The house was two stories of reddish brick with dormers across the roof and bright white trim. It was landscaped with little bursts of deep green shrubbery and the circular drive brought them up in front of a large white door where the realtor was waiting already. 

"Hello, I'm Angie Michelson. You must be Mr. Hummel?" she shook Kurt's hand with enthusiasm before leading him into the foyer. Then she passed him the house specs and stood beaming while he read it.

"You can just call me Kurt," he told her with a quick smile. He was feeling a tad overwhelmed standing inside the great house. A master suite with two en suites and dressing rooms, five more bedrooms each with en suites, a kitchen with a breakfast nook, living room, dining room, a drawing room, a study. Kurt knew he was going to forget half of that before he ever left. It was enormous and charming and he was already imagining tea in the drawing room served by some little old lady that looked a lot like the human Mrs. Pott's from Beauty and the Beast in his imagination.

Mr. Cunningham joined them just in time for the tour. All of his aunt's personal items had already been removed and stored, and everything remaining was set to sell with the house, provided of course that Kurt himself approved. He was wondering how he was supposed to go about knowing whether or not to approve any of that when he was handed yet another list, this one an itemized inventory of the estate. The first thing he intended to do when he left was purchase a briefcase because this was all getting ridiculous. Though he had to admit it was handy to have everything already organized for him.

Angie was well versed in the house and as they were strolling through the garden out back she told Kurt she expected to have several offers right away, as soon as it went on the market. "That's great," he told her, but his tone was a lot more sure than he felt. Didn't he need to know more about the market and all of the furniture and art inside first? He felt like he trusted Mr. Cunningham, but he couldn't be sure about much else.

By the end of the tour Kurt knew he was about to have to make some really hard decisions. The house was going on the market at £16,500,000 and he had no idea off the top of his head how that converted to in dollars. He needed more than a couple of days to wrap his head around all of this and that meant postponing his return to the states. 

It turned out to be the right decision considering everything he had to do just to get his aunt's other assets managed and new bank accounts set up to hold the cash portions of the inheritance. There were also several stocks that Kurt didn't know what to do with and the storage unit of personal items he needed to go through. Thank goodness Mr. Cunningham was a patient man.

Four days later Kurt was set to stay in London for one month, his job at Vogue being held for at least that long. Kurt had worn his dad's ear off and then Santana's and Finn's and Carol's too. He couldn't help it. He'd never imagined having that kind of money any time soon and certainly not from anything other than his own hard work with possibly his own fashion house. It felt like too much too soon and the business side of it was all over his head. One month. He could read up on what he needed to and hire an accountant to begin helping him make smarter decisions about all of it. Then he could go home knowing he'd done everything he could to be smart about it all. 

The rest of that week found Kurt making list after list of what he needed to do. The very first step was getting Santana over to his apartment and making her ship him more clothes. She harassed him a great deal about that, but in the end she handled it better than anyone else could have. He found a U.S. accounting firm with a London office, he planned to pay off his school and any debt he could of his father's or Carole's, sell the house, make some investments, and put the money into a savings so he could live off the interest. There might even be some way to take care of Finn's loans without too much arguing. It was ridiculous and insane, but he'd finally begun feeling happy about it despite the amount of work involved. There were some really important things he could do with money like that and his imagination was running rampant. Actually having an active imagination and making a thousand lists was starting to get draining.

That's why on Saturday night, after deciding that he actually didn't want to see a movie by himself, he found himself at a little market looking for something to snack on that didn't make him feel like he was a million miles from home. Eating at the hotel half the time and out the other half left him missing simple things like popcorn or pizza. The market wasn't really a lot of help either considering Kurt didn't have much in the way of a kitchen in his suite. It was really just a mini fridge and a microwave. He had all this money and this huge house but he felt homeless and it was starting to kill the joy he'd only just discovered.

Kurt wandered into the fresh fruit section because at least apples and oranges were familiar and he was just about to pick up an orange when someone ran their cart right into him from behind.

"I am so sorry, are you okay?" the young woman pushing the cart waved her hands around indicating the little girl in the basket. The child might have been around two, Kurt couldn't be sure, and her mother looked younger than him. Much younger in fact. She must be the girl's mother because they looked almost identical in hair and eye color; even the shape of their mouths were similar. The little girl was trying to climb out as the girl wrestled her back down.

"I'm fine, it's okay, really," Kurt assured her. Poor thing looked like she had her hands full as it was. The toddler was all blonde wispy curls and red cheeks and she seemed to have a way of going limp every time her mother came close to getting her seated again.

"Ky here decided she's done and when she decides that everything comes to a stand still." the woman explained. Right about then Ky began to wail and Kurt abandoned his oranges. 

"Can I help? Maybe I could push and you could carry her?" he offered.

The girl flashed him a smile as she pulled the little one out of the basket. "No need, her dad's here somewhere," she looked around so Kurt did too and that's when he saw him. Sebastian Smythe was walking toward them resolutely with a bag of baby carrots in one hand, his eyes narrowing on Kurt for just a moment. He tossed the carrots into the basket and fixed Kurt with the blankest look Kurt had ever seen on him, or anyone else. 

"Hummel," he said simply. He looked like he was going to say more but the little girl, his daughter, Kurt reminded himself, was reaching for him, her cries growing louder and more insistent.

"Here," the younger woman said and handed the toddler over. "I just tried to run your friend down," she said, glancing guiltily at Kurt. The word 'friend' seemed to be amusing to Sebastian because there was that smirk Kurt remembered and it might be irrational but it upset him.

After all he was the one being run down by... by... teenage mothers in the fruit aisle. How old was that girl anyway? Was she at least eighteen? Kurt was staring and now so was Sebastian and it felt ridiculous to still be standing here saying nothing while Sebastian soothed his daughter.

"I'm fine," he repeated and as he did so Sebastian spoke at the same time. "We aren't friends," he'd said.

The girl looked at Kurt a little more closely but Sebastian wasn't paying him any mind. Fine. He's right, they were never friends. It was just so strange seeing him after all this time and here of all places. But Kurt supposed he'd just have to be curious about it all on his own time.

"I'll just leave you three be," he murmured and turned to leave.

"Sorry again!" the girl called. Sebastian told her something but it was too quiet for Kurt to make out as he headed right out of the store. He was leaving empty handed and hot faced and more than a little frustrated by the whole encounter. It was amazing, he thought, that after all this time, Sebastian still had the power to make him feel like an angry teenager again.


	2. Chapter 2

"Holy shit!  Are you screwing with me right now, because if you are I will get on a plane and come kick your ass all over London town, don't think I won't Kurt!" Santana was about to seconds away from threatening him in Spanish but Kurt couldn't help but snicker softly into the phone.

"No, I am dead serious right now," Kurt wished he could see her face, and he was already more than a little homesick.  Santana would know exactly what to do, she had a shrewd business mind and a no nonsense approach to serious decisions that made her exactly the right person to double check as things as Kurt went along.

"I swear to god if I had any time I'd be booking my flight right now," she told him.  "I can't believe I've been out of touch with you this long. You should have been blowing up my email or something!"  It helped a little to know that their psychic friend bond seemed to still work even when they were an ocean apart.

"When your best friend is accepted to Columbia Law School you know not to interrupt the first week," Kurt said fondly.

"You could have interrupted for this," Santana argued, but then she laughed.  "No, I would have bitten your head off if you had, but dammit I hate being the last to know things.

"Technically you aren't the last.  You're just right behind Dad and Carole; though they probably told Finn," he amends.

"Kurt, you're rich.  You're the kind of rich you and I make fun of.  Oh my god, you can _not_ go republican now, because I will have to shut that shit down," Santana warned, but she was smirking, he could hear it in her voice.

They both dissolved into laughter for a moment at that thought.  Kurt was pretty glad republican was all she'd decided to tease him about all things considered.  She was going easy on him, and for that he was grateful.  She would know just how hard all of this was on him.  That's why they'd become so close, while most of their other friends drifted off in their own lives.  That balance had come to mean the world to him.

"I have one more thing," he told her later.

"Seriously?  I'm not sure I can handle anything else past your new millionaire status," Santana complained, but then she added, "Spill it!"

"I saw Sebastian." Kurt didn't know why it felt so big to say so.  Maybe it was the strangeness of the meeting or the fact that none of them had talked about Sebastian since the Warbler disgrace of 2013.  It was probably the fact that it was nearly four years later and Sebastian still got his back up.

"Christ!  In London; what's he doing there?" Santana wondered.

"I have no idea; he didn't exactly hold a conversation with me." Kurt sighed heavily trying not to remember how humiliated he'd felt or how confused he'd been at his reaction.  It shouldn't have been a surprise that Sebastian acted that way and it shouldn't have mattered so much that he had.

"After that scandal he pretty much dropped off the face of the earth." Santana's voice was a lot softer now, considering and thoughtful.  "I guess it makes sense that he'd have to leave the country to get away from the mess."

The mess she was referring to was The Great Warbler Scandal of 2013.  Even though neither of them had been at McKinley at the time, the news was wide reaching, to the point that Trent eventually called Kurt himself just so Kurt wouldn't think he'd betrayed every last friend he'd ever had by turning Hunter Clarington in for hopping them all up on steroids.  Poor Trent.  He'd always been the best of them all and Kurt was pretty sure the last he'd heard of him he was already working off Broadway in a men's group and he hadn't even graduated college yet.  So at least there was that.  Trent's name wasn't sullied in performing circles, but he'd had few people willing to stand by him after everything came out. 

The Warblers had been disbanded that year and they'd only returned under the lead of an adult faculty advisor two years later.  Everyone, everyone aside from Trent, had disappeared from the show choir circuit, fading into infamy; the sort none of them had ever wanted. 

Blaine lost track of Sebastian then; which meant Kurt had too.  He'd always just assumed Sebastian finished his schooling at home or with some fancy private tutor; except it wasn't really always that he'd imagined it.  In fact it was only for a little while and then he didn't really think about it at all afterward.

"I guess that does make sense," Kurt mused softly.  "Do you ever hear from any of them?" Kurt asked, feeling slightly guilty that he'd not done a better job keeping up with people he'd once called friends.

"Only Trent and really only because he's better at keeping in touch than I am," Santana confessed.  "So he really didn't try to pick you up?  Pretty gay all alone in a strange country; sounds exactly like his type of thing."

"Ew no, stop!  He was pissed to see me and rude as ever," Kurt assured her.

"You know it's been a long time since everything happened.  If you wanna admit you thought he was hot, you can.  I won't tell a soul.  I'm pretty sure he wanted in your skinny jeans just as bad as he wanted in Blaine's high waters back in high school." Santana tapped the phone a couple of times; her virtual eyebrow raise.

"He did not!  He hated me!  We hated each other!  He nearly put Blaine's eye out and you wanted to kill him!" Kurt screeched but Santana just laughed.

"You're absolutely right, he was a mean little shit, but he was sorry; eventually.  We were all jerks in high school, Kurt.  You and I were both total bitches and still are, so don't even try to deny it" she informed him with another soft laugh. 

"Maybe," Kurt grudgingly accepted.  "It doesn't really matter though because London is huge and I'm not likely to run into him like that again, and if I did... well he didn't have anything to say before so I won't have anything to say the next time either."

"That sounds very wise and mature," Santana snickered.  "But he's still hot, right?"

"Still hot," Kurt confirmed.

They talked for a little bit longer and Kurt promised to send more regular updates now that Santana was a little more settled into school.  He hated being so far away from, from everyone really, but there was a lot to get done here and if Kurt were being totally honest with himself he might be able to admit that he'd begun having a pretty fantastic time.

A couple of days later, Kurt was knee deep in sorting through his aunt's storage unit.  The boxes were, for the most part, fireproof rubber  bins.  Each was carefully labeled and contained an itemized list.  Kurt knew from his meetings with the solicitor that his aunt was almost completely prepared to pass; going out of her way at the end to make all of this as simple as possible.  Sometimes that still surprised Kurt, the way his aunt had gone out of her way to make all of this easier on him; a kid she'd never met.

The unit was fairly close to her house, one of those multiunit storage places with steel rolling doors all padlocked and protected inside a gate that required a code.  Trees lined the back of the property, but mostly it felt cold and utilitarian.  There were even cameras for security that only added to that feeling.  It was hardly the place to sort through someone's life, but Kurt didn't really have a choice and he understood why his aunt's things were here and not at the house. 

Mansfield House was already being seen on a pretty regular basis by potential buyers.  Aunt Agnes really had thought of everything.  Kurt's plan was to come here for a couple of hours a day until he'd sorted through each of the boxes, then he would ship home what he was keeping and whatever was left would either be given away, sold, or destroyed if it was a document that had any of his aunt's information on it.

He sat gingerly on the concrete floor, thankful for his sweats today because he was probably sitting in at least an inch of dust that must have been collecting in the unit under other people's things for several years.  He didn't mind so much though, because he was distracted.  Right now he was particularly distracted by a bin with albums and scrapbooks.  Kurt knew he didn't really have time to look through all of that right now, but he'd only seen a few personal photos since he'd arrived and he was curious.

Kurt pulled out the topmost album and settled it over his knees as he opened it.  The leather of the cover was soft and worn, the first pictures in black and white.  _Agnes Hummel, age 15 mths._ She sat in a little wagon, dressed in a plain white gown, eyes wide and interested in whatever was going on behind the camera.  Kurt flipped through a few more pages finding pictures of his grandmother and great grandparents as well. 

They'd lived in the states, but Kurt knew that before that the Hummels had come over from Austria.  Seeing Aunt Agnes and his great grandmother as children playing in the dirt outside their little shotgun house, Kurt felt a swell of pride for how hard Agnes must've worked, how hard they'd all worked to get to where they did.  He might not have grown up with too much monetary wealth, but Kurt knew the value of every dollar his father earned and they'd been rich in so many other ways as well.

He let himself get lost in the images of his aunt growing up.  For the most part she looked happy, even her father who was mostly stoic seemed to have a special light in his eyes for his daughters.  And Agnes was beautiful.  Maybe not in a traditional sense, but to Kurt she was lovely.  She kept her long hair pinned up, her clothes always just a little bit more extravagant than the people around her, and there was a little smile that played around her eyes in almost all of the pictures.

As Kurt went he discovered things he'd never known.  Agnes had a stage actress.  Probably not one of too much note, but enough that she had playbills covering a good portion of her young adult life until... Kurt got to the end of one of her scrapbooks and found the last few pages torn out.  He dug around the box a little bit but there wasn't any sign of them.  It was almost as if her life had ended around her twenty fifth birthday.  After some more prodding and page flipping, Kurt found that the photo albums did eventually pick back up but they were several years later.  His aunt must have been in her thirties by then and she was much more subdued than before. 

Sitting there holding on to the last of her happy pictures, Kurt couldn't imagine what must have happened.  He knew so little to begin with, but he felt haunted by the look in her eyes.  What had taken the mischievous glint away, or the secret smile?  It was then that Kurt noticed the slanting of the sun into the room.  He whipped out his phone and found that he'd lost almost an hour in one box!  He carefully piled everything back into it and shoved it over to the keep pile.  It needed more investigating, but now just wasn't the time.

After tidying the room up and making note of which box he'd left off with, Kurt stepped out into the late afternoon, his hand swiping the bits of perspiration clinging to his forehead.  It definitely wasn't hot outside, but in the little room hauling boxes back and forth, Kurt had somehow managed to break a sweat.  Now he was hungry, and just wanted to climb into the shower back at the hotel for the rest of the night.

He reached up to pull down the door to the storage unit and once he had the lock fixed back in place he turned to get into his rental car and was surprised to find he wasn't alone on the row any more.  Sebastian stood five units down behind a small truck with what looked like pieces of a crib in his hands.  He was paused, staring at Kurt, his eyes a little wider than Kurt had seen them, his arms flexed to lift the crib out of the back.  Kurt, for his part, felt a little like the proverbial deer in the headlights.  He knew he ought to get in his car and go, but he couldn't seem to move.

The sun is shining from behind Sebastian, casting him in just enough hazy light to outline him perfectly against the flat grey backdrop of the storage units.  His jeans are ratty and just a little on the loose side, hanging low on his hips and exposing the waist band of his green underwear.  His t-shirt was a thin cotton v-neck number that maybe used to be white but was now discolored under his large flannel jacket.  Kurt wasn't looking at the tiny little exposed strip of skin there on his stomach or the little dusting of hair there either.  Except he must have been because when the crib hit the ground with a soft thunk breaking the silence Kurt's head had to snap up to meet Sebastian's eyes.

Sebastian turned his head quickly away, pacing around his truck to his own storage unit and Kurt took that as a signal to get his ass in gear.  He hopped into the little car and pulled away without looking back.  He didn't know why fate was apparently conspiring to annoy him lately, but he was going to have to hurry things up and finish at the unit if he didn't want any more awkward run ins with Sebastian.

Of course fate was a funny thing, or cruel or evil, depending on one's perspective, and only a hand full of days later Kurt saw him again.  This time at a coffee house of all places.  Kurt had a sharp quip all set to blurt out about Sebastian's ability to ruin every good coffee house from Ohio to the U.K., but Sebastian beat him to it, turning fully around in the line and almost smiling behind his smirk.

"Are you following me, Hummel?  If you are it's my duty to inform you that even an ocean away I still have powerful friends and the law would definitely be on my side.  You should think about whether or not doing hard time would be a good idea for someone as obviously delicate as you."  Sebastian looked so pleased with himself that Kurt had to fight the urge to punch him.

"Are you always this banal, Sebastian, or just when I'm around?" Kurt shot back, and then, rather than lash out again, Sebastian's smirk split into a huge grin and he laughed.  He continued laughing even as he turned back around, shaking his head the entire time.  Kurt wanted to kick him.  He's the jerk that started this whole thing and now Sebastian was laughing at him and the whole thing was making Kurt feel like the little kid in the suit on the playground that everyone always made fun of all over again. 

He was doing a pretty good job of working himself up to being really mad when a dark haired guy sidled up to Sebastian and whispered something in his ear.  Sebastian wound his arm around his waist and pulled him close as they both stepped up to the counter to order their coffee.  Kurt was doing his very best not to listen in but he couldn't help but see their hips bumping playfully into one another as they argued over who was paying.  When the other guy won out, Sebastian leaned down and dropped a peck on his cheek before they moved off and it was time for Kurt to step up and order.

Paying for his coffee was a pretty good distraction so Kurt wasn't nearly as miffed as he had been a few minutes earlier.  He wasn't happy about running into Sebastian everywhere though, especially not this time because every time he heard Sebastian's laugh or the hushed whispers coming from their table, Kurt couldn't help but think about the pretty blonde girl from the market and how she might be home somewhere with a baby while Sebastian carried on with the brunette that looked suspiciously like another curly haired boy from Sebastian's past.  It was weird even and left an unsettled feeling in Kurt's stomach. 

The logical side of him reminded him that jumping to all of these conclusions about Sebastian was unfair and worse it was just odd that he put that much effort into trying to figure it all out.  Unfortunately the other half, the one that didn't care what tragic end was met by the curious cat, prodded him that it didn't matter why he was so worried about Sebastian's personal affairs; after all Sebastian was the one with the history to back up Kurt's thinking.  He obviously hadn't changed at all if they way he treated Kurt was any indication.

Kurt cast one more glance their way as he headed out, coffee in hand.  Sebastian was watching him go, his lips quirked to the side in what was almost a smile.  It made Kurt's stomach flip over and he jerked his head away, hurrying out and down the street as fast as his feet could carry him.  He drank his coffee while it was still too hot to enjoy, all in an attempt to burn the bitterness from his mouth.  It didn't work, but thankfully there was no one around he had to admit that too.

Saturday found Kurt driving to Cheshunt, for lunch with Mr. Cunningham, his aunt's solicitor, and his wife.  The man had been an invaluable resource to Kurt from the very first day, but over the past few weeks he'd been something of a mentor; a friend even.  When his wife, Emily, sent the invitation along for a home cooked meal, Kurt couldn't help but be touched and he readily accepted.

Their home was about a forty minute drive from where Kurt was staying in London city proper, but despite offers to pick him up at the rail station for his convenience, Kurt insisted on making the drive himself.  He'd not been out of London at all and was excited to be going on even such a short day trip.  The weather was brisk but surprisingly clear, and Kurt felt light as he merged into traffic and settled in with the music turned down low enough he could still hear the drone of the robotic GPS guide as it herded him through the turns until he was heading out, straight for Cheshunt and a day with good food and good people.

Emily wasn't at all what Kurt had been expecting.  To be fair he'd expected someone kind and probably similarly tempered as her husband, but instead she was kind and loud and her laugh was completely infectious.  She made Kurt right at home and proceeded to ply him with food until he wasn't sure he could walk and then insisted they go visit the castle, which was really a church,  before Kurt had to be back on the road.  She even made him promise to stay in touch once he went back to the United States.   The whole day was like getting a reset and Kurt left feeling centered and peaceful and also feeling like he probably wouldn't need to eat for a week.

Kurt was almost at the halfway point when a stalled car caught his eye up ahead of him.  It was a small silver four door, a Kia, Kurt thought, and the hood was pouring steam while a man fiddled with the front trying to get it to pop open while trying unsuccessfully to avoid getting burned.  He hopped backward shaking his hand.  Kurt pulled around him and as he did so he saw; it was Sebastian.  Of course it was.

"Son of a bitch," Kurt swore slowly as his car pulled to a stop.  It was too late though, he wasn't going to leave, besides if Sebastian's expression was anything to go off of he wasn't particularly happy that Kurt was the one pulling over either.  So Kurt decided to get out and just keep it to civic duty.  If Sebastian didn't need or want his help, that would be that and he could get back in his car and go. 

"I really want to be surprised that you're the one pulling over but somehow it's just not in me," Sebastian swiped his hand over his face and back over his hair.  He was tired sounding, and Kurt's eyes flitted to the backseat of his car where his daughter was asleep in her car seat.  Kurt decided then that maybe being civil wouldn't be too hard if he remembered the innocent party involved.  At least that's what he told himself.  He wasn't about to consider the idea that maybe Sebastian looked just a little grateful to see Kurt for a change. 

"Why don't you tell me what happened and I'll see if there's anything I can do," Kurt offered.  He was already pacing toward the front of the car, his mind running down a short list of the things that he wanted to check first.

"What?" Sebastian asked, clearly not quite with the program. 

Kurt stopped and looked back at Sebastian with a hint of a proud smile tugging the corners of his mouth.  Sebastian had no idea just how much Kurt knew about cars and Kurt felt a little smug to get the chance to show him he was more than Sebastian ever gave him credit for.

"I'm going to see if I can tell what's wrong with your car and if you can tell me what happened that'll really help speed things up." Kurt told him primly and then he popped the hood and stepped back as more steam poured out.

Sebastian looked slightly bemused as he followed Kurt around to the front.  "It started overheating and then it started spewing that," he waved his hand at the steam.  "So I pulled off the road and turned it off.  I was going to call a tow but my damn phone is dead."

Kurt was waving at the steam and trying to get a closer look without getting burned.  "Well you can use my phone if you still need a tow; just give me a minute here.  Oh, and uh, do you have a rag or something I can use, something you don't mind me getting dirty?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah, sure," Sebastian said and then he disappeared to the trunk.  When he came back he was holding what Kurt thought looked suspiciously like a cloth diaper.  He took it, turning it over in his hand as Sebastian watched him closely.

"I still keep them around for spills," he explained with a shrug.  "I have them tucked into every room at home too.  You'd be surprised how much mess one tiny person can make." Sebastian laughed softly and then appeared to catch himself doing it and went quiet.  "So you know about cars?  Not exactly the sort of thing I expected from you, Hummel."

Kurt pulled his head back and fixed Sebastian with an indiscernible look, but before he could say anything Sebastian jumped back in, "I mean I'm impressed.  The best I can do with a car is remember to fill it up and get the oil changed once in a while." He offered Kurt a hesitant smile and Kurt let himself relax enough to get back to the task at hand.

"Well, my dad owns a Tire and Lube shop back home, so I was raised around cars." Kurt told him.  He leaned over, carefully looking over the radiator for any cracks or holes.

"Well then, I suppose it's a good thing you came along after all," Sebastian was grinning when Kurt looked over.  It was one of the nicest things Kurt had ever heard from Sebastian; certainly the nicest he'd heard since they started running into each other all over London.  He flashed Sebastian a surprised smile and turned back to looking under the hood.

"Ah," he said, spotting a crack on the side of the radiator.  Coolant was dropping down the side, and likely pooling underneath the car.  That was why the car overheated, and why now, it did in fact need to be towed.

"What is it?" Sebastian asked.  His voice had taken on an anxious edge.

"It's your radiator.  It'll need to be replaced." Kurt waved Sebastian over and pointed the leak out to him.  Had it not been so extensive, the thing might have been repaired, but the crack was long and wide, practically a hole at one end.

"See the crack there," Kurt pointed it out to him as they both leaned in to get a closer look and Sebastian made a frustrated sound when he saw it.  "The coolant leaked out which is why the car overheated and it's also why it has to be replaced."  Kurt wiped his hands on the cloth and then pulled out his phone.  "Here, you're definitely going to need a tow."  He passed over his phone and Sebastian started his search for a tow service.

"Are radiators expensive," Sebastian asked, his face intent on the phone's screen.

"I'm not sure about the cost of things here, but yeah, back home several hundred, I'm afraid." Kurt carefully shut the hood of the car and stepped back.

"Great," Sebastian answered softly, then he was making a call.  Kurt's eyes drifted back to the sleeping form in the backseat.  She must have been exhausted to sleep through all of this.  Actually Kurt didn't know anything about children, but he was surprise she'd slept through the hood closing at the least.

Sebastian leaned, or fell really, back against the door of his car, his eyes shut, his finger pinching the bridge of his nose.  "They'll be here in about twenty minutes, so thanks." Sebastian said, his eyes meeting Kurt's.  He looked frustrated and just a little bit desperate.  "Do you mind if I make one more call before you go?"

"No, go ahead," Kurt told him.  He was starting to feel just a little bit bad for all the things he'd recently thought about Sebastian.  Well, maybe that was a stretch; he was feeling a little bit bad for Sebastian today. Yeah, he thought, that fits better.

"Hey, put me on the phone with your dad." There was a pause as he waited and Kurt tried not to stand there just listening to him talk.  "Hi.  Is it alright if Kyleigh and I drop by and can I park my car at your place until I can get it fixed?  Yeah, busted radiator.  Thanks!  Okay, we're just waiting on the tow truck; we'll see you in a bit.  Goodbye." Sebastian handed the phone back to Kurt with a heavy sigh.  "Alright, we're good, thanks again for stopping.  I would have been screwed if you hadn't."

Kurt's mind was working a little on overtime, and he hated to admit it, but he was probably about to offer to do more.  There was just something about the way Sebastian looked.  A little defeated and the worry in his eyes was too much like the worry Kurt had seen in his own dad's eyes when he was younger.  It almost seemed like he was didn't have the money to get his car fixed.  But that was crazy wasn't it?  The Smythe's were rich, Sebastian had never let anyone think otherwise.

He didn't get the chance to say anything yet though because that was when Kyleigh decided to wake up and she did not sound happy to find herself still in the car.  Sebastian hurried to get her unstrapped and he swung her up onto his hip bouncing her just a little as he went.  The look he gave her was so much different than any other Kurt had ever seen on his face that he couldn't stop staring at them.

"I can fix it." the words were out of his mouth before he'd fully decided to offer.  Sebastian swung around and fixed him with a hard look that was just a little wide around the eyes.  "It needs to be replaced, but it's a lot cheaper to do it yourself than take it in somewhere.  Then you'd just have to buy the part and I could show you what to do with it."

"You don't have to do that, we're okay.  We don't need any charity." Sebastian said this all softly though, not at all in the tone he would have used a few years back.  He was still bouncing his daughter on his hip as she settled down.

"It's not charity.  You'd still be buying the part and working on it.  Then if it ever happens again, you'll know what to do."  Kurt wasn't sure what was making him push for this but he tried to tell himself it was the little girl and the way she turned her big eyes on Kurt.  "And I can give you two a lift so Kyleigh doesn't have to ride in the front seat of a tow truck."

Sebastian seemed to consider this for a minute and then he smiled, just the barest hint of a smile.  "Thank you, Kurt." he said softly.

After that there was waiting and Kyleigh was bored and wanted down, but that wasn't really safe there on the side of the road, so Kurt found himself with front row seats to the Sebastian Smythe as a Disgruntled Father Show.  He tried finding her toys, he tried letting her down and holding her hand, he tried offering her juice, but none of it seemed to be at all what the little girl wanted.

After a while Kurt remembered all the food Emily had sent him back with and he handed over some crackers that seemed to make all the difference in the world.  By the time the tow truck arrived, Sebastian had Kyleigh strapped back in her seat, this time in Kurt's rental, and she was much happier.  Sebastian gave Kurt directions but he was also following the tow truck so they were a little redundant.  They were heading into Camden which wasn't far at all.

"My in-laws have a place there.  Not too big, but it's got a garage where I can stow the car.  My apartment building has a policy against parking cars that are broken down." Sebastian said.  He was looking out the window as they drove.  Kurt didn't say anything.  He wanted to ask Sebastian about it, but he wasn't going to push, as curious as he might be.  Instead he asked, "So when did you move here?" It seemed like an innocent enough question.

"About a year and a half ago," Sebastian said softly.  It seemed like that's all he was going to say about it and Kurt felt his curiosity peak again, but he knew it wasn't his place to ask.

The rest of the ride to Camden was quiet, but short, and as they drove through the middle of town Kurt was distracted by all the brightly colored shops and the eclectic mix of people on the street.  Sebastian must have noticed him noticing because he chuckled just a little from the passenger seat.

"What?" Kurt asked, a little bit huffy.

"I knew you'd like it here, is all.  Your grin is giving you away." Sebastian shot him an easy smile that didn't look nearly as condescending as Kurt expected.  Sebastian went on, "Lots of people love Camden.  It's fun and fashionable and eclectic.  I'd have been worried if you didn't notice."

Kurt made a noncommittal noise and Sebastian just laughed softly as he guided Kurt through the last turns to his in-laws house.  They lived in a tall slender building that was so reminiscent of the brownstones in New York that Kurt felt an immediate pang of homesickness as he pulled to a stop in front of it.

Sebastian hopped out and made to undo Kyleigh so Kurt tried to help and get her car seat out, but that proved too complicated for him so he had to wait.  Luckily there was a woman coming out of the house to take Kyleigh so Sebastian could handle getting all of their things.  Kurt hadn't ever had a reason to think about how much stuff had to go a long with a kid, but now that he was seeing it he didn't know how people handled hauling around that much crap on a regular basis.

Once everything was out of his car, Kurt found himself being pulled into the most unexpected hug from the woman holding Kyleigh.  "Thank you for rescuing my son and grandbaby," she said, pulling back and beaming at Kurt like he'd performed a miracle of some kind.

"This is so humiliating," Sebastian groaned from nearby and the woman fixed him with a mean stare that shut him up, then she turned a smile back on Kurt.  "I'm Grace, please forgive Sebastian's manners, we've never been able to do anything about them," She chuckled and tucked her arm into Kurt's elbow, essentially pulling him along toward the house. 

"I'm Kurt, Hummel, ma'am, nice to meet you." He knew it was wrong but it was a little funny to play up the dutiful guest while Sebastian glared daggers at him from the porch.

"Well, Kurt, it's lovely to meet you.  We've only got stew for dinner but I insist you stay and-"

"He can't!" Sebastian interrupted and Grace stopped still on the steps next to Kurt.  Kurt didn't know what the change of pace was about but it made his stomach twist uncomfortably.  "He's busy, right Kurt?  Did you tell me you had some place to be tonight?" he was looking at Kurt desperately trying to get Kurt to go along with it and a spiteful part of Kurt wanted to say that no, he was totally free to stay for dinner.  But the rest of him felt hurt at the sudden dismissal and he didn't want to stick around where he wasn't wanted.

"Uh, that's right, I have, a thing.  A dinner thing." Kurt told her.  He felt awful for lying, especially for lying for Sebastian.  Asshole.

"Give me your phone," Sebastian held out his hand and even though this was making Kurt's head hurt, he passed it over.  When Sebastian gave it back it had his number in it.  "You're still coming tomorrow though, right?" Kurt wanted to say no, but Grace and Kyleigh were still practically hanging on to him together, and he hated to let them down, even if he had only just met Grace.

"What time?" Kurt asked, resigned.

"Any time after nine?" Sebastian posed it as a question, so Kurt just nodded.  "I'll call you before I head over," he said, trying to keep the tightness out of his voice.

"I'm sorry you couldn't stay dear, we'll have to make it up to you sometime," Grace hugged him from the side again and then carried Kyleigh off inside leaving Sebastian on the porch and Kurt turning to hurry back to his car.

"Kurt!" Sebastian called.  He hated to do it, but he stopped and turned back around, keeping his face as poised as possible.

Sebastian didn't say anything else but he did look pretty torn and maybe a little guilty.  Kurt couldn't help him though, he had no idea what his issue was and he didn't really intend to find out.  So when Sebastian just shook his head as if he didn't know what to say anyway, Kurt turned and headed for his car. 

Once he was safely inside he glanced back and found the porch empty.  Kurt's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly for a few moments as his heart settled back down from the gallop it had been trying for back on the steps.  He felt confused and hurt.  After everything why did it always come back to this?  Because Sebastian was a dick and he always would be, Kurt reminded himself.

Satisfied with that answer for now, Kurt pulled out, flipped on his GPS, and headed back to his hotel and to an evening alone.


End file.
